Heartless Libertarian
"Giving money and power to government is like giving whiskey and car keys to teenage boys." P.J. O'Rourke

12/09/2005

A Different Christmas Poem

Note: I received this from our battalion CSM, who received it from a close friend who lost her husband, the SSG referred to at the end, in Iraq last year.

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All,

I wanted to share this with all of you.

A couple of days before Thanksgiving a group of Marines came to our home to ask if they could help in any way - clean the gutters, winterize my car or the house - I thought to myself - about two weeks late but isn't that nice. I never did figure out how they got my name and address but its public record so I didn't question it.

They were very sweet to remember an Army family and I asked them to come in and have something to drink. We talked and got to know each other. Come to find out that the Marines not only take care of their own but any Gold Star Families in the area. They thought that Jorshua was away at college and wanted to make sure that I would be alright.

I was humbled by their generosity and thoughtfulness - these kids could be my sons and here they were making sure that the family of a Fallen Comrade (their words) was being taken care of. They thanked us for the food and drink and promised to check in on me again periodically. We exchanged email addressed and this is what I got...

It's a great day to be an American no matter what the service!

A DIFFERENT CHRISTMAS POEM

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light, I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.

My wife was asleep, her head on my chest, My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.

Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white, Transforming the yard to awinter delight.

The sparkling lights in the tree I believe, Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.

My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep, Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.

In perfect contentment, or so it would seem, So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near, But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.

Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know, Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.

My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear, And I crept to the door just to see who was near.

Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night, A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.

A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old, huddled there in the cold.

Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled, Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

"What are you doing?" I asked without fear."Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!

Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve, You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,

Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts..To the window that danced with a warm fire's light.

Then he sighed and he said, "It's really all right, I'm out here by choice.I'm here every night."

"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line, That separates you from the darkest of times.

No one had to ask or beg or implore me,I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.

My Gramps died at 'Pearl' on a day in December," Then he sighed, That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."

My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam', And now it is my turn and so, here I am.

I've not seen my own son in more than a while, But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.

Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag, The red, white, blue... an American flag.

"I can live through the cold and the being alone, Away from my family, my house, and my home.

I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet, I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.

I can carry the weight of killing another, Or lay down my life with my sister and brother...

Who stand at the front against any and all, To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall."

"So go back inside, and harbor no fright, Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."

"But isn't there something I can do, at the least, "Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?

It seems all too little for all that you've done, For being away from your wife and your son."

Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret, "Just tell us you love us, and never forget.

To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone, To stand your own watch, no matter how long.

For when we come home, either standing or dead, To know you remember we fought and we bled

Is payment enough, and with that we will trust That we mattered to you as you mattered to us.

More Nanny Statist Thuggery

The latest Nanny State assault on personal freedom-in this case property rights-went into effect here in Washington state today. Passed by the voters by a near 2-1 margin, Initiative 901 bans smoking in pretty much all indoor 'public' places, as well as within 25 feet of entrances, windows, or air vents to such places. This even includes places, such as cigar bars, that exist pretty much only for the purpose of giving smokers a place to light up. Yes, the voters of Washington really are that stupid.

Supporters claim that the measure was about 'public health,' especially the exposure of wait staff, bartenders, and the like to second hand smoke. The concept of private property rights, or of freedom of choice when it comes to where people choose to work, are foreign to these people.

Let me make one thing clear here: the Bill of Rights exists to constrain the actions of government, not private citizens. When you step onto my property, you are implicitly agreeing to whatever conditions I impose on your presense there. You have no right to free speech-I can tell you to shut up, or else leave, at any time. Same with freedom of religion-you can believe whatever you want on my property, as long as you keep it in your head. Start preaching, and I'll kick you out. You have no freedom of the press-you can take your flyer covered with your opinions and stuff it up your ass. You have no right to keep and bear arms on my land unless I say so. As a matter of fact, unless you're my friend, you come on my land armed and you'll get one warning to leave before I shoot you. And guess what? You come on my property and I reserve the right to search you and anything you bring with you. It's my land, and I'm th e king of my castle. I make the rules. If you don't like my rules, you can leave at any time.

That means if I own a bar or restaurant, and I want to allow smoking (a legal activity, in case you have forgotten), potential employees and patrons have two choices: either deal with the smoke, or find somewhere to work/eat/drink without the smoke. It's their choice, just like allowing the stogie-puffers was mine. And if I lose business because of the smoke, I can either go smoke free, or live with reduced profits. My choice.

But apparently tobacco is so evil that people can't be allowed any choice.

Just So You Know

I had to give back the borrowed laptop that I'd been using to access the web from my hotel room, which means I'm limited to accessing the internet from work computers. Which means I can't access anything from blogspot, mu.nu, or typepad, or yahoo mail. So I can't see my own blog and the comments thereon, and I can't check the email address listed on my blog. Which is annoying, to say the least.

The upside is, I do more reading of actual books.

Timmy, I saw your last comment on 7mm platoon org, but didn't have a chance to reply. Sorry about that. But I think me might be able to compromise on a squad LMG with something like the MK-48. I like the sustained fire capability of belt feed and exchangeable barrels to much to give that up (I've read too many stories of guys burning up SAW barrels in Iraq, mostly because they weren't swapping the barrels). You can't really do platoon level offensive ops without at least two crew served MGs in your support by fire element. One MG just doesn't work, IMO. Also, you need at least two more people in your platoon HQ-the platoon sergeant and his RTO.

DZ in Sight

"Outboard personnel, stand up!"

"Inboard personnel, stand up!"

"Hook up"

"Check static line!"

"Check equipment!"

"Sound off with equipment check!"

"ALL OK JUMPMASTER!"

"STANDBY!"

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The Mrs has hit 37 weeks, which means that Number 2 is just waiting for the command of GO from the Big Jumpmaster in the Sky. And I'm stuck 3 hours away, in the winter, with a mountain range between us. Pray that the good weather holds.